


don't ignore this.

by j_whirl44



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Amelia's POV, Dissociation, Gen, Grounding Mechanisms, bodyswapping discussions, inner monologue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:27:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26497876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_whirl44/pseuds/j_whirl44
Summary: Surface level insights from far away.
Relationships: Amelia Earhart & Zolf Smith
Comments: 12
Kudos: 40





	don't ignore this.

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: all dialogue taken from RQG 170- Checking In. I just wrote around it!

Her room’s too small. No, it’s too big. Her feet scrape against the floor and leave marks on the wood. She taps a claw-no a foot. Both? She paces her room until the heavy weight of a tail swings and hits her one too many times. She lets out a surprised and frustrated yell as she makes her way towards her bed. She usually liked the size of it; how it was always slightly bigger. Now it’s too big.

She stares at her hands-not her hands. She clenches the sharp talons to her scaly palms. This isn’t right this isn’t her. Except it is her. She thinks of her lost manifest; lists the names of her crew over and over. She closes her eyes and tries to swallow but her throat isn’t a throat.

She looks at her hands. She lists the names.

She turns over her hands and tilts her head to the side. The tail twitches along. She lists the name from bottom to top now.

It’s her. It’s Amelia. It has to be, she feels...different but the same. She  _ is  _ different but the same. Her brain, for what it’s even worth now, is still hers. Her bloodlust isn’t any more different than usual. There’s not...an unyielding call to a higher being in the pit of her new stomach. She rubs a scale on her wrist just to see if it’s real. It’s smoother than she thought it would be.

It’s Amelia. She knows. She thinks so, anyway.

Her body doesn’t hurt anymore at least. She hasn’t had this much energy in weeks. The persistent headache is gone. The weak, shaky knees don’t exist anymore. She thinks of who had the misfortune to be placed in her recovering bag of bones and if they’re alright. What if it’s a kobold, she thinks. A beat passes and now she wonders why she finds herself caring if it  _ is _ a kobold. She lets out another grunt, her new sharp teeth are bared to no one. She scrapes one with a talon. The sound doesn’t reach her ears.

She looks at her hands. She lists the names.

A knock at the door, then an entrance. She looks at her hands. She feels the new vocal box push the words out her alien mouth and only somewhat processes the words being spoken back to her.

Hands cover hers. Calloused ones. Dwarven ones. Her vision blurs out of focus due to lack of use. She takes her talons and digs into that skin as if to make sure she’s still in the room with this other person. She holds her breath without meaning to.

She lists the names.

She removes her hands. Eyes back in focus and sees the crescent moon shapes left on the other person, not enough to bleed but enough to see the dark red contrasted on white skin.

“It doesn’t look any different...” she says, or at least she thinks she does.

More conversation happens. In theory, words are said.

“Did you think you were going to start worshipping dragons,” the voice says.

She looks up, she finally sees Zolf, her first mate, leaning down and trying to keep a neutral face. She stands and walks to her desk. She takes out a stack of very important papers. She counts them all one by one.

Again she thinks she’s having a conversation but she can’t be sure. It’s hard to hear over the buzzing in her head, the fog inside her mind.

“Don’t ignore this...this is important, alright?” he says.

She responds, “why, why did I have to add a ship’s counselor to the crew,” it’s the first thing that doesn’t feel foreign out of her, well maybe still not hers, mouth. She sees him - Zolf - clearly now. He’s smiling a bit.

She thinks back on her life before the world went to shit. She was well liked, well trusted, and well received for the most part. She loved what she did, sailing the skies and helping who she could. Surely, she thinks and she hopes that these memories are real. They have to be, because they make that fog in her head begin to dissipate. The way he’s standing in front of her right now dies the static down.

“I’m your first mate. It’s what I do,” Zolf says.

He exits. She puts down the papers. There were twenty five of them. She looks at her hands. She lists the names.

The fog in her mind clears but now there's an iron taste in her mouth and she realizes she’s bleeding. Tongue too thick in her mouth; teeth too sharp to press down hard. She swallows and it doesn’t seem attached to her throat.

She walks back and sits on her bed again. Yes, she’s sure this is her bed. This is her room. This is her ship. This is her mind.

She looks at her hands. She lists the names.

**Author's Note:**

> hey so like zolf and amelia's relationship am i right.
> 
> harlequins....help.......other.........harlequins.........am i right.
> 
> Thanks for reading. Shocker to no one i love this dynamic a lot.


End file.
